Love

'When I love someone, I want only good things to happen to him. When I hate someone, I wish bad things on him. And in the recent months, you've been tormenting Bernard and us as well. What does that have to do with love? Nothing.'

Now let us imagine the living room as a stage: to the far right there is a fireplace; opposite, a bookcase on the edge of the stage. In the background, the centre of the stage is taken up by a couch, a coffee table and two armchairs. Paul is standing in the middle of the room, Laura is by the fireplace keeping her eyes fixed upon Agnes, who is standing only a few steps away. Laura's swollen eyes are accusing her sister of cruelty, insensitivity and cold-heartedness. While Agnes is speaking, Laura kept retreating backwards to the middle of the room towards Paul, as if trying to express by this movement, her astonished alarm at her sister's unfair attack.

When she came within a step or two of Paul, she stopped and repeated: 'You don't know what love is about.'

Agnes stepped forwards and took up her sister's former position at the fireplace. She said: 'I understand love perfectly well. In love the most important thing is the other person, the one we love. That's what it's all about, and nothing else. And I ask myself: what does love mean to a person who is capable of seeing nothing but herself. In other words, what does love mean to an absolutely egocentric woman.'

'To ask what love means makes no sense, my dear sister,' said Laura. 'Love is something you've either experienced or you haven't. Love is love, that's all you can say about it. It's a pair of wings beating in my heart and driving me to do things that seem unwise to you. And that's precisely what you've never experienced. You said I was incapable of seeing anybody but myself. But I see you, and I see right through you. When you kept assuring me of your love during these last few weeks, I knew perfectly well that coming out of your mouth that word has no meaning. It was just a trick. An argument to mollify me. To keep me from disturbing your tranquility. I know you, sister, you've been living your whole life on the other side of love.

Immortality by Milan Kundera
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There comes a point in time in every relationship, when the words 'I love you', get stuck in my throat.

I never thought it would happen in this one. I remember telling my sister that with Mike, for the very first time, I know with all certainty that I love someone. Love as a feeling had never felt more concrete. Fast forward 5 weeks, and here I am. Back in the same place of confusion... feeling like a fraud when I say the words 'I love you'.

Love constantly evolves outside all of my expectations and imaginings. I cannot put on my finger on it, and when I cannot, I choke. 

Learning to love

I have always felt an emptiness within me. I blamed B for not loving me the way I wanted him to. I then blamed J for the same reason. Praying about it to God today, I realise that my desperate need to be loved cannot come from anything of the world. My need for unconditional love can only be met by God, because it was my departure from Him, that put it there.

Today, I tried to break up with J. I have been struggling with our relationship for months. Wondering whether I really loved him, thinking about ending it whenever the going got rough. I never did, until today. Blinded by a whole host of expectations and notions about what "love" should be, I branded our relationship as un-worthy.

Losing J brought up old memories of B, and made me feel that I was unworthy of love. I asked myself what was wrong with me, that both men couldn't sustain their love for me. It was then, when I was on my knees crying out to God, that I realised how my fear of being unworthy of love manifested itself in my relationships - it made the man that I am with feel inadequate, and burdened.

Love is a gift. I have been so selfish in my attempts at love. I demanded to be loved, so that I could feel secure. But I never gave myself to love. Never tried to give my heart as a gift, without expecting anything in return. I saw my love as a transaction, I exchanged it for security. That isn't love. Little wonder I felt like a fraud saying it.

Realising the above, my heart stilled and I realised that I have something good with J. It's not love yet. However this time, instead of asking someone to give me love, I am secure enough to volunteer the potential of it. Thanks for giving me a chance.

Over

I think it's finally over.

It has happened a couple of times before. My mind is often only one realisation away from being able to let go of someone. It's like jumping off a cliff and landing in the ocean; one minute it's dry and hot, and the next, it's wet, salty and chaotic.

It happened for me today. I was walking past these awesome shiny walls and checking out my profile when a phrase popped into my head. "He makes me feel safe." It was an answer to a question that a friend had posed to me a month or two back, asking about why I was into him. The answer still stands. I had felt safe, protected and cared for. He was like this huge and mighty harbor, and as long as I was in it, I was safe. I had perceived him as this strong, kind and passionate force.

He doesn't protect me anymore. I don't feel safe. Instead, I am scared. I am scared of his backlash; I am scared of his volatility. I am scared because taking care of me is no longer his priority, and it means that all that power he possessed can now be turned against me. He is someone that can belittle me and push me around on a whim. He has no respect for me and little compassion. He does not make me feel safe.

I have no interest in the present him.

Cognitive Control

I think I have cognitively controlled my self-esteem into a funk.

I really like this boy that is neurotic, deeply passionate, manipulative, controlling, magnetic, vulnerable and beautifully spiritual. In one of his short-lived but intense periods of passion, I was drawn into his world.

His passion for me has been extinguished.

I want to be close to him again. I want to be special in his life. I want to know why. I want to take care of him. I want to be there for him.

It is a drastic drop into insignificance.

As a sane, pragmatic and self-loving individual, I have been trying to take measures to protect myself. My chosen method of coping has been cognitive control. I try to kill all hope within and suppress wishful thoughts. When I want to walk towards him, I tell myself that he does not want me anymore. When he takes the seat beside me, I tell myself that it is because of the person on the other side. When he says that he does not care about my feelings, I take it literally. When he only sees me in a group, I tell myself that it is because he is keeping a distance from me. When he spends time with the girl I was a rebound from, I tell myself that it is because she is more spiritual, pure, innocent and more lovable than me.

I need to stop this. I wanted to write my thoughts out so that I may realise how absolutely disgusting and self-defeating they are. So he isn't into me anymore. Well, I sincerely think that it is his loss. I refuse to be a martyr. I refuse to even be in the same competition as a teenager. I am a strong, intelligent, loving, supportive and beautiful young woman. I am growing in my faith every day, I have found, and am immersed in study that makes me excited for life. God loves me. I am his daughter.

Now, I just have to work on believing all the above when I am standing in front of him.

I Deserve Better

There is a boy whose face makes my world go quiet.

He has a look in his eyes - it's gentle, tender, tentative, and apprehensive. Sometimes I get to see it. At times I get a little panicky, a little anxious, a little sad when he won't meet my gaze. I can memorise the line of his jaw - narrow, defined and hard. I often encounter his jaw as I attempt to quiet my world, chin pointed away.

My fingertips have imprinted upon them the feel of his ribs, his bone and muscle. Instinctively, they want to touch him, to hold him. Touching him is always a mistake. Contact with him hollows me out.

I cry in front of him, and he does not take me in his arms. I tell him that I want to end things and he does not shed a tear. He sees me when it is convenient, when I fit into his schedule. His time is a gift, and I am to be grateful. He doesn't need me, he doesn't want me, everyone else in his life has the same ability to make him happy. He is happy, with or without me.

I am tired of trying to make a dent in his life, tired of trying to get him to look at me instead of turning away. Tired of trying to figure out if its me - that I just cannot inspire him to love me, or is it that he has no capacity to love me the way I need to be loved. I'm tired of testing the weight of my presence in his world. I'm tired of trying to see if I can affect his emotions, tired of realising how ineffectual I am. I am tired of pretending that I do not love him as much as I do. I am tired of pretending that I do not want to see him 5 days a week, I am tired of protecting myself from someone who can and will hurt me. I am tired of trying to become someone that he would love more. I know that I am bigger and stronger, I am better than the reflection of me in his eyes.

My mouth is puckered with bitterness. I am going to savour it. I will remember it. I will nurse it and feed it. My bitterness will be my armor - with it, I will build a wall to keep him out.

I deserve better.

I deserve someone that makes my world erupt with laughter. Someone that would look at me. Someone that would hold me when I cry, someone that I can delight with my presence and hurt with my absence. I deserve better.

Parting with Dignity

One would think that after all the partings that I have had to participate in, I would be way better at managing them now. I have a set of rules that allow me to keep a dignified face when saying goodbye. (At least I am deluded enough to imagine I can keep to them.)

1) Never grasp at straws, or if another analogy is preferred, do not indulge in the last breath before death. (Extra time is useless, it just prolongs what is inevitably going to happen.)

2) Always acknowledge to the other person that you might see each other again, whilst silently repeating to yourself that the world is small, but it isn't that small. (Kill all hope.)

3) Try to stay away from parting situations near transportation. It always feels too final and desperate. Always say goodbye several hours before, so that you can experience all the building anxiety safely away from the person that is leaving. (Do not build on what is already unpleasant.)

Where will I be in 5 years time?

Today someone asked me a question. He asked me to picture myself in 5 years time and in my most idealised dream scenario, where on earth would I be, would I be single/married, what time would I wake up and what would I be doing. I'm not going to reveal my answers, however I did find out from him, with regards to what made the question so good.

1) He gets to roughly guess the girl's age depending on her answer with regards to the single/married question or most girls just go 'well... in 5 years time I will be 25 etc.' and BINGO!

2) He gets to find out with further prompting if they are seriously/casually dating someone based on their answers.

3) He gets them to talk about themselves and everyone likes talking about themselves thus he gets a favorable opinion. Also, most girls would ask him the same question in return.

4) When he gets to answer, based on what kind of girl he thinks she is - eg. If she is really sappy - he can alter his response to be something like 'well I imagine that I would be married and I will wake up at 7.30 to make breakfast for my wife'. LOL.

The point though, was not to educate you guys about how to get to know girls, but that I learnt something about myself whilst answering his question. When he was asking where on earth can I imagine myself in 5 years, I genuinely could not come up with an answer. If I could be living anywhere that I want, I don't know where would I want to live. I could say that my most direct go-to place would be Singapore. However, I will be lying if I say that living in Singapore for the rest of my life is the stuff of my wildest dreams. Maybe I'm at that place in life where the thought of settling anywhere just scares me.

It's kinda odd for me to observe myself now. I feel like I am at this stage in life where the thought of commitment to anyone, any idea, any path in life, just plain old makes me deeply uneasy. Maybe it's because I am starting to realise that commitment has consequences; it means sacrifice and the forfeiting of other options. I don't think I am comfortable with the opportunity cost of major life decisions now. So instead, I live in this state of limbo and I keep everything hypothetical. Ah well... just a few angsty college kid thoughts.

Honesty and Simplicity

I just want to be honest and simple again in my inter-personal relationships. However it just seems impossible to be honest without hurting anyone. Honesty seems to only thrive in situations that are pure of motive, trust laden and free of judgment. Looking at my description of such a situation, I think I am losing hope with each word that I type.

The restrictions of a decent life

From W. Somerset Maugham: Of Human Bondage

"He had thought of love as a rapture which seized one so that all the world seemed spring-like, he had looked forward to an ecstatic happiness; but this was not happiness; it was a hunger of the soul, it was a painful yearning, it was a bitter anguish, he had never known it before. he tried to think when it had first come to him. He did not know. He only remembered that each time he has gone into the shop, after the first two or three times, it had been with a little feeling in the heart that was pain; and he remembered that when she spoke to him he felt curiously breathless. When she left him it was wretchedness, and when she came to him again it was despair.

He stretched himself in his bed as a dog stretches himself. he wondered how he was going to endure that ceaseless aching of his soul."


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I must admit that it was the tasteless melodrama of the above passage that captured my attention. It really is no wonder that Wuthering Heights was my favourite novel when I was younger. At this age though, when maturity and levelheadedness is supposed to rule, I feel almost guilty to find the above appealing. Alas reckless doomed passion! You have no place in a life of commitment, responsibility, self-discipline and christianity.

My Dream Boy

A friend of mine was asking about my dream boy the other day. See, it was a hard question to answer because I have an idea of what would be good boyfriend material, or what would be suitable husband material. But a dream boy? That's taking it into fantasy territory. At this moment in time though, the answer cannot be clearer.

My dream boy will have slightly curled chin-length hair, the kind that just about makes a pony-tail. He is tall, thin and pale... beautiful almost. He rides an awesome motorbike everywhere he goes and best of all, he keeps a helmet specially for me. He is a photographer and he makes me his art. In his eyes, I am the most beautiful. He is slightly awkward, reticent almost in front of strangers, but becomes the most charming creature when surrounded by those he dearly loves. Yes, my dream boy is a cliche. :) Who cares, someone like that should exist only in our imaginations. That way he can remain perfect and unattainable.

The most beautiful girl in the world.

Today, someone said the sweetest thing a boy could say to a girl, to me. Unfortunately, he was talking about someone else. :) The person's exact words?

"her beauty makes me smile"

Isn't that the loveliest set of words ever? Especially since it comes from a real life, slightly abashed human being and not some cliched media induced setting. Thing is, the girl that he was talking about wasn't exactly a publicly acknowledged beauty, and he knew that. But to him, she was the most stunning girl he had ever met, and no one else even came close.

I think I would be most happy if I ever had the chance to be as lucky as her.

Grace

I love Grace, she always puts things in perspective for me.

Me: I spent the entire day shut in my room sobbing and listening to Skyscraper by Demi Lovato.
Grace: That is so f****** emo.

Me: I feel like I progressed too quickly. I tried to do the right thing, but I am not ready for it. That's why I am miserable.
Grace: The deed should come first, that is how you become a better person. (Okay, I must admit that I don't remember the exact words, but this is the gist of it.)

My sister, what would I do without her.

与狼共舞

最近，我终于了解你所谓与狼共舞的心情。我也害怕了，但我弄不清楚敌人是谁。现在的我只能尝试用距离来争取那虚假的控制感。有时觉得为了幸福，我矛盾的一直跟自己的欲望展开斗争。

没有钱你会爱我吗？

没有钱你会爱我吗？At work, I hear this at least once a day. It has come to the point where I have run out of ways to make light of that statement.

The boys I work with are young, independent creatures. Be it 19 or 25, they all have the same tale of leaving their homes to try find better paying work here in Singapore. They are cooks drawing the same hourly rate of $5.5/hour, but the crucial difference is that for me, this job is merely a sojourn into a different world but for them it is something they have to struggle to rise above.

Its odd really, the difference between them and the other young men of my acquaintance. They all think about girls, cars and gadgets, however the conversations about these are vastly different. Its not "will she like me? Shall I get an iPhone or a BB? When should I buy a car?" but its "How can I find a girl if I am so poor? How am I to buy her dinner? Will she be upset if we take the bus? Should I replace my old broken phone?" Sometimes, I find myself at a loss, I just do not know how to reply. What am I to say to "Alison, will you love me if I am poor?" The thing is, they are not asking if a girl would love them, they are asking if a girl would accept them and entrust them with her future.

I was pushed to do some self reflection upon hearing the above question over and over again. I remember the first time I answered with a "I don't think I could marry an unsuccessful man." Now, don't ask me to define success, that would be a whole different blog post. However, I wanted to swallow that sentence whole after I saw the look on the cook's face. He reacted by slapping the towel he was holding on the metal table exclaiming "how am I supposed to become successful! I am stuck working at this job 10 hours a day to make ends meet, how am I supposed to become successful!" Despite the overly personal language that seem to hint at a direct reply to me, I think he making a general statement about such affairs in his life. Now, the phrase "没有钱你会爱我吗?" has become their mantra... its played on their handphones as they cook, on the tips of their tongues when they converse and each time they say it, I feel like someone shoved a cotton wad down my throat.

I used to pride myself on not being a materialistic person. I thought that wealth was not important. My only criteria for a man was for him to love god and be intelligent. However I think the old me was never confronted with men in their position before. I was complacent and arrogant enough to completely ignore the presence of others beyond my comfort zone and thus stupid enough to make self satisfied proclamations about not caring about money. I struggle with my ideas of inequality, with my just discovered materialism and my prejudices.

After watching Jane Eyre the other day, something struck me during the epic dialogue between her and Rochester.

"Do you think I am an automaton? ­ a machine without feelings?...Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong — I have as much soul as you, — and full as much heart...I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh; — it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal, — as we are"

It was not the romance of the latter words that tugged at my heartstrings but the sentence "Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong — I have as much soul as you, — and full as much heart" Who am I to disregard someone because of their social status, success or money making ability. Is my heart ruled by elitism? The romantic love that I can have for a man, does it come dangling with requirements, sculpted by my socio-economic class? If so, then is that kind of elitist love true and proper?

Save me

Ever since I first watched "The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind", a certain line that clementine said engraved itself onto my mind. She tells Joel that "Too many guys think I'm a concept, or I complete them, or I'm gonna make them alive. But I'm just a fucked-up girl who's lookin' for my own peace of mind; don't assign me yours."

To me, that line is the epitome of cool. It is ruthlessly honest, it possesses spunk, spirit and an unwavering independence. Reading this line as a teenager made me feel worldly and strong. I wanted to be in her position, to say that, to be that person. Superficially, I still relate. I am a messed up girl trying to find my own peace of mind, I still don't have the capacity to help someone else find his. Clementine's statement though, has deeper connotations than that. Those lines should apply to herself as well. What she does not want others to expect of her, she probably does not expect of others. Her peace of mind is hers to find, and not someone else's prerogative to give her.

Fast forward a couple of years, I catch myself writing a post last night that goes as follows...

"Its always startling to realise that one has been replaced.

Today, I think I saw a definite sign of that. I guess no amount of preparation or rationality can ever cushion the blow. I guess I always thought that he would be around, that solid, comforting presence in my life. With him around, I was never really afraid. He lent me the courage to pursue my dreams, patiently talked me through my moments of despair... (hey, he just called me on skype - right smack in my moment of despair)

Coming back to what I was writing... I guess it was a false alarm. Foreshadowing of what is to come?"

Who was the teenage me trying to fool? I am no Clementine. I am looking for someone that I can depend on, someone that makes me better than I am. I'm looking for someone that puts a spring in my step, someone that is the answer to all that is wrong in my life. I'm looking for someone that would as Joel said "save me". (I feel inordinately obliged to put in a god reference here and talk about how I have found that person- but I won't. On my blog at least I get to be truthful) I guess to a certain extent, what is left of teenage Alison in me is disgusted by this admission and wants to stomp around chanting "weak!". But hey, what does teenage Alison know about romantic love? =D Maybe 21 year old Alison does not know much about it too, however she does know much more about herself and her needs.

I might never find that person that can be all that I want him to be. However it is time that I acknowledge what I want. It at least brings me a step closer to getting it.

The possibility of a different sort of life

Today a good friend of mine reminded me about a pair of high school sweethearts I used to hang out with.

He said that when someone asked the female counterpart about what she wanted to do later in life, she said... "Marry Male counterpart". Such an amazingly secure life they both have. They are currently in university studying to be professionals, assured of financial comfort and emotional success.

It made me reflect on my situation. I'm in Shanghai, my future uncertain and uncomfortable. My poverty has resulted in 1 or 2 meals a day (Bread and cheese for several meals when I really am broke). My future destination is riding on whether or not I get a scholarship from Hong Kong. It’s a scary life. I have about 3 continents between my guy and I. Uncertain professional life, uncertain love life, and a distant idea of home. But … I chose this life. I don’t think I can be fulfilled by anything less than this.

I worry about losing my youth, my talent, my potential. I worry that my brain isn't getting the stimulus it needs.

Its human to dream of different possibilities, I guess that's why I like the Parallel Universe Theory so much.

希望我眨眼，能感动你视线

Tabs and the splitting of them

On a note about boy girl issues, I've been with men that split with the tab with me, I've met men that always insisted on paying, men that had ninja paying skills, men that made me pay. I know if we look at it superficially, social construct demands we appreciate the men that do pay for us.

However when we factor in age and current status, a lot of men that do pay, pay with money given to them by their parents. How about someone that goes dutch with you simply because they cannot afford it. Someone whose money comes from their own pocket and not their parent's?

Which one should we appreciate better? The one that expresses generosity, enabled by external sources of income? Or the one that does what he can, given his own limited resources?

I would not be short sighted. I better appreciate a guy that earns his own keep at an early age than a guy dependent on his parents.

P.S. This discussion is about character not material substance.

My favourite picture of Gerald and I